


We Can Learn to Love Again

by onlythefinest



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Gen, au: not space, au: zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 01:45:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlythefinest/pseuds/onlythefinest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The apocalypse has a funny way of bringing people back together. Or: In which Kirk is an idiot, McCoy is annoyed, and they never stopped loving each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Can Learn to Love Again

**Author's Note:**

> A deviation from my usual HBO War fics. I bring you: zombies and Star Trek.

It started in Georgia and spread from there. Kirk would be lying if he said he didn’t once think of Bones. McCoy would be lying if he said he didn’t once think of that loud-mouthed, good-for-nothing ex of his. Uhura knew the doctor’s concern was genuine, even if he had a funny way of showing it. Sulu knew Kirk’s concern was genuine, even if he never explicitly said he wanted to go to Georgia, just to see. Sulu liked to think he knew his friend well enough to know when he really wanted to do something, so every time Kirk slept in the SUV, Sulu made subtle route changes until they were on an interstate heading toward Savannah. 

It was a miracle they’d managed to find as many survivors as they did, at least Sulu thought so. He and Kirk had been roommates at a college in California, and after Kirk and McCoy’s big falling-out their senior year, a lot of their little group of friends went their separate ways. McCoy and Uhura took off to Georgia, since Uhura found a job as a speech translator for a French news-station that covered popular presentations stateside. She met Scotty on the job, and as far as Sulu knew the two had been getting along wonderfully. McCoy just wanted to get as far away from California as possible, and Georgia was home to him. Sulu had stuck around California with Kirk, found a friend-turned-boyfriend in Pavel Chekov, who’d been a junior while Sulu had been student-teaching one of the university’s kinesthetic classes (fencing, to be exact; Chekov had been terrible at it, and Sulu had offered extra practice time; things simply escalated from there). Then, of course, there was Spock, who Kirk wound up having a thing with for a few months after the falling out, but things didn’t work. Spock wasn’t exactly boyfriend material, but he enjoyed Kirk’s company well enough. Sulu suspected there was still a bit of buddy-fucking going on every now and then. 

When the outbreak happened in Atlanta and they heard about it in California, it was already too late for quarantine. Sulu suggested they pack light, essentials, and get the hell to the middle of nowhere. Kirk nodded, grabbed Spock while Sulu grabbed Chekov, and they piled into Sulu’s black SUV and got the hell off the campus. They listened to reports of the outbreak on the radio, before the stations went dark. The highways were obstacle courses of wrecked cars and semis, but the SUV was a 4-wheel drive, so more often than not, Sulu simply went off-road. They raided abandoned gas stations and grocery stores when they could, outfitted Sulu’s rig with chicken wire and plenty of weapons, taken from Wal-Marts and Cabelas across the country. Silencers had been a good investment, Spock’s idea, to keep the infected from hearing too much gunfire. Makeshift explosives and pipe-bombs had been another good idea, that one Kirk’s, to ensure escapes or to clear wreckage when they couldn’t get around or through something. 

In Georgia, when news of the outbreak hit Savannah, McCoy was the first person on Uhura’s doorstep. He told her to pack light and grab her boyfriend, and they threw their things into the back of McCoy’s pickup, covered it with a tarp and set off. They got out of the state before the outbreak hit the border, headed North to South Carolina, where McCoy had a cousin with a boat. They got held up when McCoy’s pickup died on the side of the road and he was unable to start it. McCoy walked with his shotgun until he found an abandoned truck he took the battery out of, because dammit, he wasn’t going to leave his girl on the side of the road in the goddamned apocalypse.

They reached South Carolina in record time, only to find an empty cousin’s house and a sunken boat. McCoy had cursed and scratched his head, and Uhura suggested they go West, that maybe they’d had more time to prepare. “There might be safe-havens there,” she said, and McCoy shook his head. 

“I ain’t goin’ west,” he said, and hadn’t let the argument continue. When he was sleeping, Uhura took a few not-so-wrong turns and they wound up on a highway west. When McCoy woke up and noticed they were entering Tennessee, he asked what had happened. 

“We’re going West,” Uhura said resolutely, and that had been that. McCoy grumbled, folded his arms across his chest and slouched in the seat, but said nothing. 

It was Scotty’s suggestion to find some weapons, so they outfitted themselves with shotguns and scythes, hunting rifles and crowbars they found in hardware stores along the Bible Belt. Staying out of the cities had been the best decision they’d made, because as they listened to the radio before the stations closed, the cities were nothing but slaughterhouses. 

It was Missouri when the two parties met up again. Neither had come across very many infected on their drive, but as they went through Jefferson City looking for more supplies, they found infected every few blocks. Not in large numbers, but enough they didn’t want to get out of the car. They didn’t move very fast, the infected, but a hoard of them could still be deadly. And a hoard was exactly what Sulu found when he turned the corner. 

“Shit,” he said as he slammed on the brakes out of instinct. The sudden jolt jerked Kirk from his nap and he sat up in the back seat, yawned and rubbed his eyes and said, “What’s up?” 

“Zombies,” Sulu said, throwing the SUV into reverse. “No biggie. I’m just going to back up and we’ll get through a different way.” 

He started to reverse and almost backed right into a blue pickup truck. He slammed on the brakes again, this time sending Kirk back into his seat, and cursed. “What the hell?” he asked as the pickup pulled forward and stopped, and Sulu backed up the rest of the way. Kirk didn’t even need to see the license plate to know whose truck that was, and he fumbled to get his seatbelt (Chekov’s idea) undone.

“Goddammit,” he muttered, finally got the damned thing loose, and before Sulu could grab him he was opening the door. 

“Jesus,” Sulu said, slapped the steering wheel as he leaned back to shout at Kirk to get back in the car. 

Kirk ignored him, ran up to the driver’s side of the pickup and his smile faltered when he saw it was Uhura driving. She blinked at him, incredulous that they’d even run into each other in Jefferson City of all places. “Kirk?” she said, and beside her Scotty leaned forward, a face Kirk didn’t recognize, but behind Scotty McCoy leaned forward, eyes the widest out of all the pickup’s occupants. 

“What the hell are you doin’?” he asked angrily, shoved his door open so he could slide out of the truck. Kirk skirted around the front and Sulu glanced back at the infected, which were starting to look at them and wonder if they might be in store for a lunch. 

“Christ, I thought you were dead, Bones,” Kirk said, but Bones put up a hand for him to shut up and stop before Kirk had even made it around the grill. 

“Now you stop right there,” he said. “I’m still mad an’ I ain’t about to let you use this apocalypse as an excuse to get back together.” Kirk stopped, blinked, mouth parted. 

“You’re serious right now?” he asked, shoulders slightly drooping. “Like—you’re really serious right now, aren’t you?” McCoy nodded. 

“Damn straight I’m serious,” he said, folded his arms across his chest. “You don’t just get to come runnin’ back because the world’s endin’.” Kirk scoffed, shook his head and looked at the clouds. 

“I don’t believe it,” he said. “You’re really doing this right now. Of course you are. You would.” 

“Maybe we should take this someplace safer,” Spock called from the SUV, because the infected were getting really interested in what was happening now. Kirk held up his hand and shook his head. 

“No,” he said, still staring at McCoy. “Bones, it’s been like, six months. I can’t believe you’re still mad about that.” Now it was McCoy’s turn to scoff. 

“You cheated on me,” he said. “With some sorority brat you couldn’t even tell me the name of, and your excuse was that you had a few too many drinks at a party.” 

“That wasn’t an excuse,” Kirk said. “It was the truth. And at least I told you what happened.” 

“Yeah, after you did a walk of shame back to our apartment in nothing but your boxers,” McCoy said angrily. “And dammit, Jim, I bought you those!” Kirk groaned and ran his hands down his face. 

“I think you forgot the hour I spent apologizing,” he said. “You wouldn’t even let me make you breakfast as part of my apology.” 

“Breakfast doesn’t make up for somethin’ like that!” McCoy said, exasperated. “Fuck, Jim—I wasn’t just gonna blow off you cheatin’ on me.” 

“In my defense, I think someone slipped Everclear into the Jell-o shots.” 

“That’s an excuse,” McCoy said. “Hell, your entire hour-long apology was nothin’ but excuses, come to think of it.” 

“Well, excuse me, Mr I can handle my liquor better.” 

“This has nothing to do with handlin’ liquor!” 

“It was everything to do with handling liquor! You were in pre-med—you know what alcohol does to people!” 

“Yeah, an’ I know what stupid does to people, too. Christ, if you wanted to break it off, you could’ve found a better way to do it.” 

“What—“ 

“Boys.” Uhura stuck her head out of the window, and frowned at both of them. “As much as I’d love to sit and listen to your lover’s spat, I’d rather not be zombie food. So you—“ She looked straight at McCoy. “—get your ass back in this truck, and you—“ A glare at Kirk. “-- get back in that SUV and you can follow us.” Kirk frowned, opened his mouth to protest but McCoy was already climbing back into the truck and slamming the door. Kirk stared at him through the windshield for a moment, then stalked back to the SUV and slid into the back with Spock. 

“Guess we’re following them,” he said, jerked his seatbelt back around him as Sulu backed away from the infected, who’d ambled closer during the argument.

When the two vehicles made it to the highway, the atmosphere in both was uncomfortably tense. Scotty tried to ease it in the truck by saying Kirk and McCoy’s spat reminded him of one he had with an ex, but McCoy shut him up before he could get very far, because he didn’t want to hear it. In the SUV, Chekov put in a classic rock CD, but Kirk told him to turn it off. Chekov frowned, but Sulu complied, was unafraid to say, “McCoy made him a CD with that song on it once.” Kirk remained silent in the back, and Spock looked between him and Sulu, wondering how something as simple as a broken relationship could possibly ruin a perfectly good song. 

They drove until midday, when Uhura pulled over at a Texaco. It looked thoroughly abandoned, but she grabbed a hunting rifle, shoved a shotgun into McCoy’s hands. “Don’t shoot your boyfriend,” she said evenly. The boys in the SUV were already out, Sulu and Chekov holding pistols with silencers, and Spock with a baseball bat. He and Scotty offered to watch the cars while the others gathered whatever they could. Kirk had his hands shoved in his pockets and didn’t so much walk as sulk behind Sulu and Chekov toward the building. McCoy rolled his eyes and looked at Uhura. 

“No promises,” he said, slinging the shotgun over one shoulder. 

The Texaco was abandoned, ransacked for money, but not for food. Chekov grabbed a few bags and shoved some chips into them, and Uhura dumped boxes of granola bars and trail mix into a bag of her own. Kirk and Sulu checked the bathroom for infected, found none and returned to the others to help collect food and water bottles. Kirk tossed a few Dr Peppers into the bag Chekov was holding, remained quiet and made sure to give McCoy a wide berth in the small store. 

“Wish the freezer cases still worked,” Kirk said, frowning as he stared at the melted bags of ice and soggy cartons of ice cream. There was a puddle of water surrounding the freezer case from where several of the ice bags had burst, and Kirk stepped back, missed the movement from the ASSOCIATE’S ONLY door behind him as he turned to say, “Could really use some ice cream.” Uhura laughed and shook her head, looked up and dropped the bags she was holding. 

“Kirk!” she shouted, raising her hunting rifle as the infected behind Kirk grabbed his shirt. Kirk shouted and jerked forward, slid in the puddle and pitched headlong toward the ground. Uhura took the chance to shoot the infected worker in the head and splattered dark blood against the wall. Kirk scrambled to his feet, soaked from the puddle, and watched the infected fall. 

“Jesus Christ,” he said, grabbed himself all over to make sure he was alright. “Jesus Christ.” 

“Are you alright?” McCoy was at his side now, had dropped his own bags and touched Kirk’s arm. Kirk frowned, took a step away from McCoy and nodded. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, and McCoy frowned, let out an angry huff and rolled his eyes. 

“Good,” he said. “You can keep thinkin’ about comin’ up with an apology that ain’t all excuses.” Kirk frowned, snatched up one of the bags Uhura had dropped and stalked out to the car. Spock and Scotty watched him, looked back to the store as the others emerged, glanced at each other and shook their heads. 

The group spent the night in a one-room church they came across, used the pews to barricade the windows and parked their cars right out front. Uhura designated which shift each person would take to keep watch, purposefully put it so Kirk was waking McCoy up. She hoped they would be able to talk out whatever it was they needed to without it turning into a screaming match, and maybe they could get rid of some of the tension that had been palpable enough to taste between them. 

She didn’t think Kirk would not want to talk badly enough to forgo waking McCoy up for his shift. What she woke to, instead of McCoy’s gentle shaking, was the sound of a pew crashing to the wooden floor of the church. Sunlight was just beginning to filter through as she jerked away, instinctively reached for her rifle as the others roused. “Shit,” she muttered, looked at Kirk, who was propped up against one wall of the church, blinking as he woke up to the sound of infected outside. “What happened to shifts?” Uhura asked, and Kirk didn’t say anything, grabbed a pistol as the others took up arms. 

“I can’t believe you fell asleep,” McCoy grumbled, and Kirk frowned, moved to the fallen pew and shot the infected at the window in the head. There were almost two dozen behind it, who all looked up at the sound of the gun. Uhura peered over Kirk’s shoulder. 

“There’s not too many,” she said. “We can take them out.” 

A second pew on the opposite end of the church fell, and Sulu turned, shot the infected who’d pushed it in and called to the others. “We’ve got quite a few over here.” Uhura frowned, moved to see. The whole population of whatever small town they’d come across must have discovered there were intruders in their church, because there were at least seventy infected out the other window. 

“All our ammo’s in the SUV,” Sulu said, checking his pistol. “And I’ve only got nine rounds. Eight now.” 

Kirk had nine rounds left. Spock had a baseball bat, Scotty a crowbar, and Chekov had a shotgun with eight shells, same with McCoy. Uhura only had ten rounds for her rifle. That would get rid of half their problem, which might let them make it to the cars; assuming there weren’t more zombies they couldn’t see. 

“Do we hev a plen?” Chekov asked, looking around. 

“I do,” Kirk said. “Sulu—give me your gun.” Sulu frowned, but complied and Kirk pocketed it. He went to the front door and started moving pews aside. 

“Kirk,” Uhura said, coming forward. “What are you doing?” 

“I’m going to lure them off,” he said. “Maybe not all of them, but enough you guys can get to the cars.” McCoy opened his mouth to protest, shut it resolutely before Kirk could turn. When Kirk did turn, all he got from McCoy was a tight-lipped frown. 

“You can’t,” Uhura said. “We’ve got enough to make it to the cars.” 

“Unless there’s more out there,” he said. Then he smiled, the same cocky smile he always used to give McCoy before finals, when he’d spent the whole week partying and only the night before studying; when he said he would still do fine, and he always did. “Besides,” he said, pushing the last pew out of the way. “They don’t move that fast. I’m sure I can outrun them.”

“We’ll pick you up,” Sulu said. Kirk nodded. 

“I’ll race you to the Texaco,” he said, grinned as he opened the door. There were more zombies lingering beyond the cars. He went out and shut the door behind him, and as it closed McCoy took a step forward. Spock watched him curiously, but McCoy didn’t say anything. They could hear Kirk shouting outside, and slowly the infected removed themselves from the windows, ambled off after Kirk’s shouts. When there were only a handful left outside, Uhura went out, took care of the infected with a few well-placed shots. 

“Let’s get loaded up,” she said, and they piled into their respective cars. Sulu suggested they go around the opposite way Kirk had led the infected, so they weren’t risking their rides plowing through a hundred bodies. Uhura agreed and they went along a small side road that looped around the outside of town, came out in front of the Texaco. Kirk wasn’t there; neither were any infected, for that matter. The six piled out of the cars and circled the building. They waited for ten minutes, and when there still were no signs, Spock cleared his throat. 

“Perhaps we should conduct a search,” he said. “It is possible something held him up.” He didn’t elaborate on what that something might be, but Uhura readily agreed to drive back into town to see what might have happened. Chekov, Scotty and Sulu volunteered to stay behind, in case Kirk showed up. Uhura, McCoy and Spock piled into the SUV and headed out. 

They found the infected first, a mob of them clustered around the entrance to a small diner. The windows were broken out and the infected leaned through them, couldn’t quite get a handle on climbing inside, and McCoy cursed. “Jim’s in there,” he said, and before Uhura could even put the SUV in park he was grabbing a rifle and opening his door. Uhura and Spock quickly followed, and they killed the infected, took out two in one shot since they were so packed together trying to get into the diner. When the infected were all dead, McCoy shoved a few bodies from one of the broken windows. “Jim?” he called, climbed through the opening. There were a couple other infected behind the counter, both of which McCoy shot as he came into the kitchen. Uhura and Spock followed closely behind, kept an eye on the front of the diner. 

A bullet nearly took McCoy’s head off and he yelped in surprise, ducked and looked around. “Jesus,” he breathed when his eyes found Kirk. 

“Guess my aim’s bad,” Kirk said from where he was on the floor, leaning against the back wall of the kitchen, a kitchen towel pressed against his side, and only around the fringes could you tell the thing used to be white; the rest was thoroughly soaked red. 

“Christ, Jim,” McCoy said, slung his shotgun around to his back and came forward. Uhura and Spock appeared in the kitchen doorway and Uhura gasped, put a hand to her mouth. McCoy looked back at them. “Do you have any first aid kits in the car?” he asked, and Spock nodded, said they had extensive first aid supplies. 

“The SUV may be a more sanitary place to administer first aid,” he said, and McCoy nodded, turned back to Kirk. 

“Alright, Jim,” he said, passed his shotgun to Uhura. “Up and at ‘em.” 

“You’ll never guess how this happened,” Kirk said as McCoy helped him to his feet. 

“I don’t care how you got it,” he said. “Just care about fixin’ it before it gets any worse.” Kirk nodded and they slowly made their way out to the SUV, had to step over the bodies of the infected stacked in the doorway. They got Kirk into the backseat and Spock passed McCoy gauze and rubbing alcohol, some medical tape and other supplies they’d raided from any ambulances they’d come across. Uhura took the wheel and set off for the Texaco station. 

“It was a stupid decision,” Kirk muttered as McCoy peeled away the dish towel and frowned at how bad the wound looked. 

“Well, yeah,” he said, getting to work cleaning up the blood. “I coulda told you using yourself as zombie bait was a bad idea.” 

“I mean cheating on you,” Kirk said, and McCoy looked up at his face. “No excuses, Bones—I made a stupid decision, and I’m sorry.”

“Well,” McCoy said, tossed bloodied gauze to the floor. “We can have a proper makin’-up when you’re not about to die on me.” Kirk laughed a little at that, winced and coughed a few times, nodded. 

“Alright,” he said. 

They met up with Chekov, Sulu and Scotty back at the Texaco. McCoy had patched Kirk up, found some pain-killers in one of the first aid kits and gave him three, insisted he ride in the SUV with the blond. Kirk was asleep in the back and remained that way until they left Missouri and were heading North, through Nebraska and toward Canada. 

“How’s he doing?” Sulu asked, glancing in the rearview. McCoy pressed the back of his hand to Kirk’s forehead. 

“He’s got a fever, dammit,” McCoy said, frowning. He started digging in the back of the SUV. “Is there a blanket back here?” He dug around, tossed a couple things out of the way, cursed and threw a first aid kit backward and Chekov cast a nervous glance at Sulu. 

“There is a blanket here,” Spock said calmly, reaching behind him and getting a blanket from the other end of the SUV. McCoy took it and wrapped it around Kirk. 

“Thanks,” he grumbled, tucking the blanket around Kirk and putting his hand back to the blond’s forehead. “We need to find a hospital so I can get an IV,” he said, looking toward the front. “And some antibiotics, unless you happen to have some.” 

“I do not believe we do,” Spock said. “We passed a sign for a hospital a couple miles ago. Perhaps if you get Uhura’s attention, we can see if we can find it.” 

Sulu honked his horn a couple times and Uhura pulled the pickup over. Chekov explained their plan and she nodded, let Sulu take the lead and they headed toward Omaha. Spock suggested they find a hospital near the fringes of the city, to avoid driving into a densely infected area, and McCoy agreed. “Look for a clinic,” he said. “They might have what I’m lookin’ for.” 

It was a small clinic with a sign that said ‘OPEN MONDAYS’ that Scotty spotted and the two cars stopped. The place looked virtually untouched. So untouched, in fact, McCoy had to kick in the door to get inside. He scouted around, found some supplies he could use and told Sulu and Chekov to bring Kirk inside. They did so carefully, laid him down on one of the examining tables after McCoy had thoroughly wiped it down with an alcohol swipe. 

“They’ve got enough here for me to stitch him up,” he said, donning a pair of gloves and telling Uhura to put on a pair to help him. McCoy told the others to start collecting whatever medical supplies they could and put them in the bed of his truck or in the SUV. They went off and he pulled up Kirk’s shirt to get at the gauzed wound. “Find me some iodine,” he told Uhura, and she began sifting through cabinets and drawers. 

“Doesn’t look infected,” he mused as he pulled the gauze back. Uhura returned with the iodine and looked at the wound. 

“That’s good,” she said. 

“Maybe,” McCoy said as he doused a cotton swab in iodine. “It either means he’s not infected, or it’s just taking a while to affect him.” Uhura frowned as she watched McCoy work. 

“You don’t have to be so negative,” she said. 

“Pardon me if my optimism died with most of the people in the country,” McCoy replied dryly. He held out his hand. “Pass me that needle and thread, will you?” Uhura complied and McCoy started to sew up the wound, was glad Kirk was out cold because he didn’t have any anesthetic on hand. He stitched in veritable silence, only broken when Scotty poked his head back in to tell McCoy they loaded up what supplies would fit. He nodded and tied off the stitches, cut what remained and dropped the bloodied tools into a metal tray. He taped down a square of gauze over the wound, put another piece of gauze over the first to be on the safe side. 

“Help me get him back to the SUV,” he told Uhura as he threw off his gloves, and she nodded, supported Kirk on one side with McCoy on the other, and they got him back into the SUV. The others joined them and they drove around the outside of the town, stopped along the highway to siphon gas from whatever cars still had it. They were well on their way north when Kirk woke. 

“You’re not a very good pillow,” he muttered, face pressed against McCoy’s shoulder where he’d been sleeping. McCoy stirred from where he’d been staring out the window, turned to look at Kirk. 

“Well excuse me for havin’ a bony shoulder,” he said, and Kirk smiled, didn’t open his eyes as he chuckled. 

“You’re excused,” he said, didn’t move from his spot. 

“How’re you feelin’, Jim?” McCoy asked. “I’d say damned good if you’ve still got a sense of humor.” 

“Damned good might be an overstatement,” Kirk said. “I’ll go with, reasonably healthy.” 

“Reasonably healthy is better than dead,” McCoy said. 

“Have to agree with you there, Bones,” Kirk said, shifting. McCoy thought he was going to sit up, but all Kirk did was move so he was more comfortably pressed against the southerner’s side. McCoy tugged the blanket up to cover Kirk’s exposed shoulder and back. “Did I already apologize?” Kirk asked. “Because if I didn’t, I’m sorry. For being an idiot and cheating on the best boyfriend I’ve ever had.” McCoy scoffed quietly, shook his head and gingerly wrapped his arm around Kirk’s shoulders. 

“Suck up,” he said, and he felt more than heard Kirk laugh below him. “Apology accepted.”


End file.
